Unknown Life
by E.M.O unkown
Summary: An original story not related to any content on FanFiction. (Probably belongs on Wattpad I guess)


Unknown

I always knew my father loved my older brother more. I could see a special sort of look in his eye one time when I was 5 and he was still living with us. We were living in Oxnard, California, mom hadn't gotten home yet (or on her way for as far as I could ever know at the time), the three of us in the living room doing our own thing. I happened to look up at dad, he was talking to Michael about something, I wasn't exactly paying attention. Suddenly I saw something in dad's eyes. Something I had never seen before, a little shine, a gleam. I never saw the gleam in his eye before or ever again after. It was only once. As I grew a little older I decided that my brother was the absolute definition of _Perfect_ and I'm absolutely _Jealous_. In "light" of recent years I also decided he was the better of us both, or rather always though that. That is a Fact.

I won't say "favorites" doesn't exist in my house. Though my mom sticks up for me I sometimes feel she misses his presence more than I. But that can't be, I miss him more than anything and I'm jealous of what he has. Freedom. He finally left this family and he doesn't look back unless we call. Birthdays and some holidays for example, we call but he calls back later. He's typically working or out with friends. That or he's fraternizing with my enemy, his girlfriend. Sure I don't know her but I definitely hate her. She has Michael; she can see him whenever she wants basically. A privilege I don't have. He rarely speaks to me, the only other stuck here in this house. Chained down like a prisoner in an isolation cell or if you're expecting something more graceful, then I'm a caged bird. Sounds nice right? Not.

I think I've always envied him; well at least that's what a part of me thinks anyway. He's perfect. I can tell when it's like dad compares us. Michael was definitely the favored one. I think he's the one this family will miss most, even when I do make it out of here, if I reach that life goal first that is. Dad is always telling me "Be Two Percent Smarter!" I feel like an idiot, a total "Special Ed"/"retard" here so much it isn't funny. Every time I hear that phrase I feel dumber and dumber. I'm a reject here though mom says she loves. Anita that is, I don't get to see my biological mom Jodi often. Fact, it's been 6 or 7 years since I last saw her. We rarely speak too.

I miss seeing her, sure, but if she died, I have to say I don't think I could miss her enough; her not in my life enough for it to completely bother me. I'm not saying it wouldn't, it would but like an irritating rash I suppose. I don't know.

Michael will always be better than me, always have the upper-hand. He's smart, cool, free, great guy too, he's also perfect. He's the Normal one. I don't regret my envy or jealousy of him; I have all rights to do so. Why shouldn't I? He's got it all; he had a great childhood, too. Got to do everything with dad too. I wonder if the dice rolled my way first, if we switched places, if I would be in his holy light. Would I be the apple of dad's eye, ever be? He said he wanted a son and then a daughter, exact order. He got it, but I don't think he actually want Me. I'm not normal and I know that much for sure. I defected, rejected, total mistake. Maybe dad wishes he had a receipt for me. I'm far from my brother's glorious title. Even farther from him. Dad can tell me "Love you too" but I can feel sarcasm in it, they're biting, stinging words not caressing, anything but. Every time I look into his eyes when he says it, he looks away from me and I can hear a slight bitter tone in his voice, strong. Is it supposed to sting so badly? Probably knot (ha ha get the pun?). I blame myself for dad's drinking, his excessive…excessive drinking. Maybe I stress him out a bit. I'm a disappointment to this house. I bring it shame and dishonor. I can never manage to do anything right, I'm a fraud. To myself and others, I let them know what I want and see of me what I want (like scars on my arms and legs!). I could never amount to anything successful in life. Guess it's good I figured that out when I was in my elementary years, I vowed suicide before I'm 20. A life goal, not a good one, but still a goal nonetheless. I'm a failure at "life".

If God existed, wouldn't he love the creatures he creates and not punish them for being a mistake? If He exists, then he hates me quite a bit and a handful of others more. Some may not see it, not even my own mothers, but I'm a Satanist (something else to be disappointed in for those two Christian moms), believe it or not. I don't believe God exists at all, but I do believe I was a born damnation. I'm this hideous monster residing in a moderately well-hidden house but go to public school to be ridiculed as one.

I don't know when I decided this, maybe I always knew, but I'm a freak.

These tears of mine roll trails unknown down my cheeks, finding their own paths to sweet escape. Leaving me once more again. Tonight I fall under their spell. In my silence I lay down and cry, letting these tears roll down my face. Finally, I leave this room of mine, but dare only a moment. I stow away in my bathroom. As I gaze upon the mirror, I notice it has cracked in my presence, and it too wishes not to see the scared child's hollow body phase before it. I'm dying inside and it my witness. I hate mirrors, hated since I was 5. Never did like seeing broken dreams and broken hope flitter by. I grew up always insulted. "Your ugly!" the others could and would taunt. My own Father's eyes pleading "I didn't want you". He too taking his own pick at me, wordless and not. As I grew to 10 I could scarce see my own reflection, I learned to hate it most too. Now I'm 15 going on 16 still imprisoned. Every time I pass the mirror, I never see me, I choose not to. I only see what I want. I see my eyes, focus only on them. I'm the mornings only my hair to keep it neat and managed. I haven't seen this sorry case of a face whole since I was 10 or so. I never want to see it, never want to see how true the others were. Never, not in this life, ever. I'm just a disappointment, a mistake.

There's enough pain, suffering, and grief to last another life, one I wouldn't want.

How far will you go to be known?

I finally take the ASVAB... my brother beat me in that too. He makes a glorious 54, while I make a less than polished 31. The lowest qualification score. That 54 was two points higher than what my step mother made, who also made two points higher than my own father. I have to beat him, one up him just once in my life with a defeating 56; if not I could settle with a 55. He'll always mean more to them than I ever will. Always the apple of their eyes, gleaming in the distance. I'll always walk behind him as his shadow. A fleeting existence unknown to man.

I made it to college. My first year could have been better. First my roommate was a terrible mess, literally, then my father hit my mother. After things worked out, she for whatever reason unknown to even herself, they stayed together for better or for worse.


End file.
